


looking like theres nothing that you wont do

by Toast_Senpai



Series: when i get like this i cant be around you [2]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 01:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toast_Senpai/pseuds/Toast_Senpai
Summary: Alexwants.





	looking like theres nothing that you wont do

**Author's Note:**

> I had to continue with this whole Alex pining thing.

How had he sunk so low?

Alex stared at the come on his hand, watched it drip lazily onto his shorts. A twisting, ashamed feeling gnawed at his heart, dropped to his stomach. Yet when he moved his eyes back to his phone screen in the other hand the feeling fluttered, reinflated his desire. Trott’s Instagram picture stared at him. _No comment._ it said. Alex wanted to laugh. Of fucking _course_ that was the caption. Trott knew what he was doing, had that much confidence in his appearance.

And Alex was only mildly disgusted with himself for getting off to that picture. Trott’s bright red lips puckered just slightly, an eyebrow raised high, dark eyes practically smoldering as they gazed directly into the camera. Alex was even able to ignore the blurred figure of grandma Ross in the background.

He resisted saving it. That would be the final straw, wouldn’t it? That would solidify the notion that he had a _thing_ for Trott like this, which was worse than his already existing thing for the man. Alex rubbed his hand onto his shorts and tapped out of the picture, closed the app before any more images could draw him in. He knew there were a few more older ones in his gallery but he didn’t open them.

Alex let his phone fall onto his bed. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, blinking at the ceiling. Was this the way everything was going to turn sour? With him slipping that icy slope into aching for his best friend? Could he still trick himself into thinking it was just the makeup and the clothes, that it wasn’t just Trott as a person, as the man he’d known since he was a kid?

Maybe for a little while longer. Alex laughed, but it hurt.

* * *

Alex didn’t realize it was a dream until he woke up sweating, cock hard in his briefs, his heart’s hurried beat the only thing he could hear. He laid in his bed, not able to see anything in the pitch black room. The replay gradually started, pieces of his imagination forming back together as it was recalled.

He had been somewhere, the place familiar yet he didn’t know it exactly. But Trott had been there too, in that shimmery dress from the photoshoot, sitting on their old office couch. Alex recalled standing to the side, and perhaps he said something, because Trott looked at him and grinned, teeth bright and lips crimson. Then Alex stepped over, reached out and felt the softness of Trott’s hair as he put a hand on the top of his head.

Even now Alex still felt the touch on his palm, silky strands between his fingers.

What next? There was a jump, something he couldn’t recall. Perhaps they’d talked briefly. The dream skipped forward. Same unknown place, except the couch was gone and Trott was kneeling in front of him, hands hot on his thighs. His jeans were still on, and Trott nosed at the button, chin pressing into the zipper.

Alex flexed his legs, clenched his jaw. How far could he recount this show before he lost?

The Trott from his dream looked up, ran a hand through his hair, head tilted. He said something but it was silent and Alex had always been bad at reading lips. Why whenever he replayed his dreams were they usually on mute? He let out a frustrated huff.

Trott undid Alex’s jeans, brought his underwear down too. Painted lips hovered close, and the breaths were there, quick little gusts that were warm. Trott said something noiselessly again as he reached out and took Alex’s cock into a smooth hand.

Alex rolled onto his side and grabbed his blanket tightly. This was torture, so why was he even thinking about it? Maybe because he knew that there was no way he was going back to sleep if he didn’t.

The head of his cock disappeared between Trott’s cherry lips. Those brown eyes that he had jokingly called muddy a thousand times glittered as they locked with his own. Trott took in more, just over half, and the greedy yearning Alex felt shot through him past the haze of recollection.

He shoved his hand into his briefs and palmed himself in defeat. The touch of his own hand wasn’t what he wanted but it’d have to do. It was all he _could_ do, and even this was a low bar. He’d already jerked off to a picture of Trott yesterday, and now his dreams were turning against him, cornering him with impertinent thoughts that he didn’t want to have. But he _did_ want to have, and that was where the problem was.

His dream Trott was good, more than good. The lipstick smeared along the length of his cock, and when Trott pulled off, the color was smudged, gone astray in places. Still, it looked amazing. Perhaps even, in a way, better. Trott stuck out his tongue and flicked it over the very tip, a tease, and Alex dug his heels into the mattress.

He needed some water, throat far too dry. But he wasn’t going to stop for that, despite his breathing feeling rough on the way out. Besides, he wasn’t going to last much longer. The image of Trott burned behind his closed eyes, and at this point Alex didn’t know where the dream ended and his own active imagination picked up. He went with it, let his brain do the work of supplying the fantasy. He had Trott take him deep, all the way, probably impossibly so but he didn’t care. This was _his_ fabrication, one that he desperately wanted to come alive.

But it was impossible, right? Alex tightened his fist and bucked his hips. Dream Trott’s moan was silent but the vibrations were there.

How many times would it take, Alex thought hazily, before it would become too much? Before he either cut himself off completely or did something horribly rash?

The thought of getting Trott into an outfit, into some lipstick, and ultimately into his bed ended Alex. He came and painted dream Trott’s rosy lips with opaque white.

And now his head was filled with what he’d make Trott wear, how much money he’d actually spend buying something Trott would definitely never wear, not for _him_ , not for any bribe in the world.

Alex sat up and threw his blanket on the floor. It was tempting to throw something else, something heavier, inviting to shout like he did when a game was going poorly. But all he did was chew on his lips until he tasted the tang of blood.

* * *

Trott had just come back from the gym. Alex didn’t know why the man had returned to the office because he always went home after working out. But there he was, standing in the doorway to their room. The white shirt he had on was tight and thin, some spots soaked through with sweat, nipples easy to see.

Alex had to make himself look back at his computer screen. His eyes were unfocused.

Trott came in and shuffled around, searching for something. Alex didn’t take off his headphones. Trott moved to his desk, and Alex caught the smell of him. He clicked around the screen, acted busy, and told himself he _was_ busy even though nothing was open because he had closed it all, ready to go home himself. Ross had already left.

There was the rumble of Trott’s voice, and automatically Alex reached up to push the ear cup to the side so he could hear.

“I swear they’d be here. You seen them? Maybe on the floor?” Trott was asking.

“Your what?” Alex’s voice came out a little scratchy. He cleared his throat.

“My house keys. I keep them on a separate ring than my car keys.” He pulled his chair out and knelt on the floor.

Alex leaned back, watched the pull of Trott’s snug jeans over his ass, how his shirt moved up as he stretched to reveal a cluster of freckles on the pale skin of his lower back. A crazy thought bubbled into his head and Alex wanted to slap himself for it.

He would _not_ be doing anything careless around Trott. Especially not after the calendar shoot incident. He had taken it too far. And even if Trott hadn’t mentioned it, and even if Ross hadn’t inquired further, it weighed in his head, like he’d done something wrong. Every time he saw Trott he thought about putting the man into a similar situation just to see how he’d react.

That would be cruel, wouldn’t it? To the both of them.

Trott remerged with a smile and his keys. “Found them. I knew they had to be here.”

Alex could only nod.

Trott tilted his head. He leaned his weight onto one leg. “Were your lips like that all day?”

Alex’s heart lurched. He touched them, felt the torn skin and how sore they were. “Uh, yeah.” He bounced his leg. “It’s really dry at my house. I bite ‘um in my sleep.”

“You should probably use some Chapstick and try not to pick at them.”

Alex nodded. He kept his hand in front of his mouth and forced his eyes to his computer.

Trott still wasn’t leaving. He stepped closer, and Alex wanted to melt away, drop through the floor.

“You seemed a bit out of it today. Everything all right?”

Trott was concerned for his friend, that was all. Alex tried to think faster than he was capable of. His hands had gone cold, all of the heat in his face. His dream resurfaced to taunt him. With Trott closer than before, the guilt pinched his insides.

“I’m fine,” Alex forced out. He waved a hand. “You should probably get home and shower or something. Don’t want to catch a cold.”

Even from the corner of his eye Alex could see Trott’s smile. “True.” He raised his keys. “See you tomorrow.”

Alex kept his eyes on the computer as Trott left. Once he was gone, Alex felt the pressure leave, body much lighter. He was in the clear again. For now.

* * *

It got better for a few days. Then it got worse.

Alex liked to put the blame on others, and this time he blamed the women in the office. They were currently very into the K-Pop craze, which was fine. What _wasn’t_ fine was when they all crowded around Nina’s desk, fawning over a particular guy, chattering loudly about how he could look good in any outfit.

Alex scoffed to himself as he made some coffee. As if anyone could compare to Chris Trott. Yeah, those Korean guys were pretty, okay, but as pretty as Trott?

Alex let his cup overflow. He cursed and slammed his knee into the counter as punishment for letting his mind slip to Trott. He had been doing so well, thoughts _not_ on his friend. Now they jumped at the chance. Attacked like a starving dog to a tossed out turkey leg.

Someone’s voice traveled over. The only clear word Alex caught was ‘collar’ before it was drown out by squeals. He took his too full cup and hastily went back to the Hat Films room. The hot liquid burned his hand as it sloshed over the rim, but he hardly cared. His head was filling with flash images of Trott in a stupid collar, how sexy something simple like a black strip of leather would look on his throat.

The image was replaced by another. Why just a _simple_ collar? it asked. Why not something with a little more flair? Alex came to a jerky stop outside the door. He stared at the wood without seeing it. An up close vision of Trott in the same leather collar washed over the door, the only difference this time was that this one was a choker with a silver ring in the front that cast a shadow on Trott’s suprasternal notch.

How he’d pay to have Trott in that. How he’d _beg_ to just see Trott in it for a second.

Alex was about to throw his cup when the door opened. Ross almost walked into him.

“Smith? I was just coming to get you. We need to… you’re covered in coffee.” Ross frowned. “Isn’t that hot?”

Alex lied and said no. He pushed past Ross and came into the room, not letting himself look at Trott because if he did he knew his shame would be written all over his face.

* * *

He felt so giddy. Alex laughed at his reflection in the bathroom mirror even though in the back of his mind he knew the party had been a bad idea. Why’d he go again?

Ah. Because Trott had told him he was invited. Ross too. Alex didn’t even know the host, but he had a real nice house. It was just outside the city, on the very edge where Uber would still be willing to come for a decent price when they were ready to go home, too smashed to drive themselves.

What had Trott said? That they could also just stay over? But Alex didn’t want that. Sleeping in the same house as Trott… it would be too much. Alex poked at his lopsided grin. He hadn’t slept in the same house as Trott in years. He felt a rush of sadness press deep inside his chest. He missed living with Trott and Ross.

There was a knock on the door.

Alex told whoever it was that he’d be out in a second. He gripped the cold marble edge of the sink and just breathed. So far nothing had happened at the party except for him consuming _far_ too much alcohol. He’d stayed away from Trott, clung to Ross’ side until he was sure the man was sick of him. But he didn’t know anyone else, and like hell he was going to go near Trott in this state…

Why the hell had he let himself drink so much? Maybe because he liked how it felt, how happiness pushed aside the momentary sadness and made him float. It would only be bad tomorrow, he’d only feel like garbage tomorrow and that was fine, because right now he felt great.

Another knock, louder. Alex clicked his tongue. He turned to leave and a glint on the floor caught his eye. He squatted and picked it up.

The tube of lipstick felt like a ten pound weight in his hand. He almost fell over. Shakily, he stood and shoved the tube into his pocket and made for the door. He wrenched it open, and a short blond woman stumbled back, surprised.

Alex smiled at her. “Sorry,” he sang, and waltz past her, down the hall and back to where everyone else was.

The lights were on dim, and the music so loud it was starting to hurt, but Alex liked it this loud. It helped, somehow, spur back the giddiness he had felt just a minute ago in the bathroom. He fingered the lipstick tube in his pocket. This was dangerous. It was a weapon, far more lethal than any gun.

He spotted Trott looking divine, leaning against the bar, talking to a guy who was in charge of making drinks. What kind of prick had enough money to have a stupid house party and hire some guy to make the damn drinks? Alex laughed to himself as he stumbled over to Trott.

He slapped Trott on the ass, because he’d done that before, and it felt right to do. Trott turned to him, an eyebrow raised. His face softened when he saw Alex.

“Hello to you too, mate,” Trott yelled above the music. “I thought you were trying to avoid me or something.”

Alex let himself drape an arm across Trott’s shoulders, tucked him in close so he didn’t have to shout as loud. “I might have been.” He wanted to be a flirt, he was feeling in the mood for it.

“And why’s that?”

Alex opened his mouth and he caught eyes with the supposed bartender. He pulled at Trott, and the man came with him, into a corner of the living room that didn’t have so many people.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Alex said after he let Trott go. They stood face to face, quite close, Alex leaning heavily against the wall.

“That’s never good,” Trott teased.

Alex reached up and bopped Trott on the nose, probably a little too hard, but it was still worth it, he told himself. “You’re right it’s not.”

“So?” Trott pressed. “What’ve you been thinking about?”

Alex let the music pound in his ears, Rihanna’s voice somehow giving him a boost of confidence. He leaned closer, his cheek brushing Trott’s as he spoke in his ear. “You.”

He was woozy with alcohol and high off his own intrepidity. It was dumb as all hell, to be like this, and Alex knew that. He was drunk, knew it was stupid, but this far gone and feeling this buzzed on boldness he just didn’t care about the consequences. He’d deal with them tomorrow, just like he’d deal with his hangover.

Trott’s voice was amused. “That’s awful nice of you,” he said, and it tickled Alex’s ear.

Alex wanted to touch Trott, simply put a hand on his side or something to create contact, to find stability because it didn’t seem like Trott was all that drunk. But he could never really tell with Trott. Only when he was throwing up did Alex know he was sloshed.

This Trott had his wits, though, and that was more than Alex had. What Alex _did_ have was a lost-now-found tube of lipstick probably melting in his pocket.

He staggered forward into Trott, turned to trap him against the wall. Alex dug in his pocket and pulled out the lipstick. The metallic tube picked up a flash of low light as he wagged it in front of Trott’s face.

“Is that…lipstick?” Trott asked. He was definitely intrigued. Or at least, Alex hoped he was.

Alex nodded, smile so wide it hurt. He struggled to remove the cap and twisted the bottom. The wax came up, and it might have been red. He hope it was. Alex couldn’t tell. In this light it looked to be a very dark brown. But it didn’t matter. His heart stuttered as he held the tube.

“You’ll put some on for me, won’t ya?” he asked.

“What?” Trott shouted.

Alex thought he had said it loud enough. He shrugged and pushed it towards Trott’s face. He was surprised when Trott didn’t move. Alex concentrated as hard as he could on not missing Trott’s lips as he spread it on. Some still went over the lines, though, but when he was done Alex had a hard time breathing.

Despite the color being weird, he could tell Trott’s lips were shades duskier than they had been. Alex dropped the tube carelessly and grabbed Trott’s hand. He pulled the man with him, desperately searching for a better lit area of the house. The hallway connected to the living room was too shadowy, and so was the kitchen. Another hallway, another push past too many bodies crowding the way, and finally Alex tried a random door. It opened into a black room, and he felt for the light switch.

It came on, throwing a plain bedroom that was clearly a spare into bright light. Alex squinted, but he was excited at the find. He got Trott inside and closed the door, music going muffled. He panted as if he had just run up a flight of stairs.

Trott stood in front of him. When Alex looked at him, he was touching his lips.

“You really have a thing for this, don’t you?” Trott rubbed the color that came off between his fingers.

It wasn’t red. Alex felt a pang of disappointment at the weird purple color. Who the hell wore purple lipstick? Yet, the more he stared, the more he started to like how it looked on Trott. It wasn’t bad, just a little odd. After all, Trott could make anything work, even strange colored lipstick.

Trott raised his arms. “So?” He was smiling. “How long do you need to look this time?”

Alex laughed. He knew it was a jab. A light one, but still one nonetheless. He felt the doorknob behind himself, managing to turn the lock with shaking fingers.

“I don’t wanna just look,” he mumbled.

Yeah, he was drunk. So maybe Trott would forgive him. Please, let Trott forgive him come tomorrow.

Alex stepped forward, almost lost his balance as the world tilted. He managed to grab Trott’s shoulder and regain his balance. He pressed himself to Trott’s front, let his nose brush Trott’s fluffy hair and smell his shampoo, and it was the same stuff he’d been using for years, and that squeezed Alex’s heart in a vice. But he shook out of it, blinked a few times and found Trott’s boney hips to hold.

Alex gave one attempt at a warning. He knew Trott could easily send him to the ground in a heap. The man knew self-defense, after all. Was a black-belt, wasn’t he? Was definitely stronger than Alex, especially now. “I’m gonna…” Alex licked his lips. He leaned down, and it felt too much in slow motion as he kissed Trott. The lipstick smelled fruity, or was it bubble gum? Either one, it didn’t taste like much. It was smooth, though. Slick. He felt the slide of his still cracked lips against Trott’s own perfect ones. They were warm.

Alex wanted to cry, his heart clenching with so much satisfaction.

Trott’s hand was heavy on the middle of his chest. Alex felt the gravity of it and let Trott’s mouth free from his own. His head was spinning, and he wanted to keep kissing him.

Trott’s face was unreadable. There was no more smile, but no scowl either. Just blank. Very handsome, but unnervingly stoic.

“You shouldn’t,” Trott whispered. He wasn’t meeting Alex’s eyes. “You’re very drunk.”

“Then maybe I won’t remember it,” Alex said.

“But I will,” Trott countered.

That hurt. That hurt a lot. Alex didn’t want to be selfish, but Trott was _here_ , right in front of him, in a locked room, and they were alone, and he was drunk, and he wanted _everything_. But it was wrong to try to take it, wasn’t it? Because Trott was-

The hand on his chest gave a little push, a little more force. Alex swallowed hard, his throat so tight he knew he wouldn’t be able to say anything. The dread washed through him and he felt like he was drowning.

Still, he tried. He croaked out Trott’s name, something desperate, and he felt his jaw start to shake, eyes hot. No, he couldn’t let himself show his agony, his heartache, his longing, not like this, not when he couldn’t control it properly.

Trott sighed, and that sound stabbed hard and twisted. He wanted to take it all back. Maybe Trott would forgive him if he apologized now, if he got on his knees and begged for everything to return to the way it was, that he’d promise not to ever do something like this again.

The hand moved from his chest to cup his cheek. Alex couldn’t stop blinking, trying to keep ugly tears at bay because he really didn’t want to be like that, not in front of Trott.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” Trott said. His eyes were such a clear chestnut color that Alex couldn’t look away from them.

He didn’t understand. But the soft smile Trott gave him felt right, somehow, and it helped. It helped soothe just a little tiny bit.

* * *

Alex didn’t talk directly to Trott for almost a week.

They still worked together, streamed, played games, laughed. But Alex didn’t talk to him. He focused on Ross, and it was probably obvious that he was avoiding conversation but he didn’t care.

His head was still filled with Trott, and he remembered everything he did at the stupid fucking party. He really hated parties.

He still thought about how good Trott would look in heels. In fact, the week had been packed with frustrating days of thinking about Trott in various outfits. He spent break looking up clothes online, picturing Trott in them. When he went home he’d jerk off until his dick hurt, and then he’d feel bad about it in the shower, and then feel worse about it in bed. It took too long to get to sleep. When he did finally, he’d have weird dreams, some about Trott and other times about nothing in particular he could remember upon waking up.

He tried hard not to let it show. But Ross was perceptive of him. He didn’t know what Trott thought. He didn’t _want_ to know, not yet. Because he might have ruined everything.

Alex tried to tell himself it was worth it, somehow. He’d gotten a kiss out of it. A lipstick kiss, at that. It was worth the world and more, to him.

He huffed a laugh and took a sip of his tea. Next to him, Ross popped his head over his monitor.

“Something funny over there?”

Alex stared at the lingerie site he had open. “Nothing in particular,” he said. Trott was out at the moment. He’d be back soon, though, and they’d resume recording.

Ross hummed. “So, when are you going to talk to Trott again?”

Alex said nothing. He hovered over the kimonos tab. Why the hell did Victoria’s Secret have a kimonos tab in the lingerie section anyway? It was dumb. He still clicked on it.

“Hmm? But we are talking,” Alex lied.

“Clearly you aren’t. It’s been, what, a week or something? Ever since the party.” He drummed his fingers on his desk. “Did… something happen? Did you fight over a girl or something stupid like that?”

Alex _almost_ laughed. He blindly found a stray water bottle cap and chucked it in Ross’ direction. It missed by a mile. “None of your business, buddy.”

Ross smiled. “Sure, sure. But I’m probably right. You got absolutely wasted. How was that hangover the next day?”

Alex rolled his eyes. The kimonos were sexy. Silk, satin, mesh. All would look great on Trott. Especially the gold lace-trimmed one. And it was even on sale. Forty-three bucks. Was it worth it, getting something Trott would never see? Just some forty-three dollar jerk off material, right? He could get a dragon dildo for that price, and that would be more useful.

“Surprisingly, I was fine,” Alex lied again. He had spent that day throwing up and feeling like he was dying. Wishing he was dying for real. Regretting everything but also still clinging to some fragment of hope. A _very_ broken fragment.

“Uh-huh,” Ross snorted. “I bet.”

The door opened. Alex didn’t have to look to know it was Trott. He instinctively closed out of his incognito window.

Just a little longer, Alex told himself. Let his head figure this shit out, process what it wanted to, hurt about what it wanted to, and accept what it wanted to. All he needed was some time.

**Author's Note:**

> One more part to come.


End file.
